Tango
by TheAwesomeLadyCatherine
Summary: The tango truly was a dance of passion. Not a lemon (it nearly was, but I stopped myself). Things heat up in the rehearsal room as Morgan and Pierre learn more about each other. Might be slightly OOC on Pierres part, but not too bad.


Tango

Morgan had agreed to the performance of her favourite dance in front of the John Drake high school for numerous reasons-she adored dancing, she enjoyed dancing with someone less juvenile than her _partner _Anthony, he was always relying on her to remind him of the steps, she liked Pierre Dulaine and enjoyed his strong frame around hers, leading her- most of all she loved to tango.

He had approached her after one of their classes and made a very polite request, she hadn't appeared too pleased by the idea. He asked her again, slightly more desperate

"Morgan, please. You have no idea how much I would appreciate this." She agreed.

He had initially suggested the Waltz, but she pointed out that an Argentine Tango would make more of an impact, it was strong and sexy. He agreed and they began to choreograph. The extra time together had led to conversations during breaks.

They had been rehearsing for a few days now, he showed up one night with a candle, which he lit next to the picture of his wife he kept on a shelf in the studio.

"Special occasion?" Morgan asked, approaching her ballroom dance teacher.

"It's the anniversary of my marriage." He replied lighting the candle and making a cross across his shoulders.

"How long have you been married?"

"She's been dead for five years, but we were married for ten."

"I'm so sorry..." Morgan said, not too sure how to respond.

"Thank you."

"She looks very young in that picture, how old were you when you married?"

"I was 23 and she was 21" He replied, a smile gracing his features

" Wow, you were my age"

"Huh?" He said, in an unusually informal manner "I though you were Caitlin's age..."

"We started at the same time, but she's younger. She's still in high school." Morgan replied, surprised that he thought she was seventeen. Caitlin had started at fifteen and she had been twenty.

"You're twenty-three?" He asked. She nodded, not sure where this was going.

"In which case..." he went in to the back room and returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I have a very fine merlot which I was saving for Tina and I, but since you're here..." He smiled

After the bottle was emptied, they flicked through different songs. They looked at all the classics.

"You said this was for a bunch of high school kids, right?" He nodded

"What kind of music do they like?" She asked

"All that rap and R&B stuff, you know the kind, all the offensive degrading lyrics" He vaguely replied

"So more modern music?" He nodded "In that case, Monica Belucci might not be the best choice."

"What do you suggest, Morgan?"

"This is by Veronica Verdier, it's slightly more modern and has a great tango beat." She played the song and they agreed it was a good choice.

A week later and they had gotten the choreography sorted. Rehearsals had been going well and the moves were fluid.

"From the beginning!" And the music started.

She took her place and started the dance, he circled her like a predator and threw his blazer to the side, he grasped her forearm tightly and they knelt to the floor. Their eyes performed a dance of their own as they slowly rose. Rehearsals had been slightly more heated as of late, but that was just the nature of the tango, it was a passionate dance. But this was seperate, she pushed her body to his slightly more than was necessary, his hand skimmed up her smooth thigh further than necessary and his hand lowered slightly, instead if being just below her shoulderblades, it now rested in the delicate curve of her waist. Neither of them protested any of this.

He noticed her lip curl up slightly when his hand moved, she noticed him bite his lip when she ground her hips further in to his. None of this was mentioned, yet they both knew.

They were playing a dangerous game, each were becoming more forceful and rehearsals were decidedly less innocent for the both of them.

She had never before noticed how strong his shoulders were, how his accent made every word sound just a bit more suggestive.

He had never before noticed how full her lips were or how fluid her every movement was.

He knew this was wrong, he was ten years older, she was his student and they were doing this for his other students and...he couldn't actually think of any other reasons.

After all, she was old enough to make her own choices, he had been married at her age and, judging from the way her hips were pushing against his, her thoughts were moving down the same path as his.

It was the evening after their tango and it had been a success. He turned up to the studio that evening and found her there.

"How did it go?" She asked as they entered the building.

"Very well, they are now willing to learn. I think a couple of the male students were convinced purely because they would like to tango with you, though." She smiled at his comment.

"I have been told I'm a rather good dancer." She said

"Yes, I don't think Sasha was too impressed by your lack of response to her comment." He said, looking at her accusingly.

"I was a bit harsh, but maybe she should have appreciated the opportunity she had without needing proof of how good it was. If she wanted me to be grateful to her, maybe she should have been more grateful to you."

They had reached the studio and she removed her long coat to reveal the same slinky dress she had worn to the detention hall.

"That really is an excellent dress." He said and she smirked.

"How about one last performance...without the crowd." She said and started the music.

She rotated her hips and signalled him to come closer. He came toward her with that same look in his eyes, like a predator moving towards prey.

He gripped her arm more firmly than before, she pushed his sleeve up further, revealing the cross tattoo and his strong forearms. He gripped her waist harder, his hand travelled further up her thigh, caressing the smooth skin and she held back a moan, this did not go unnoticed by Pierre who smirked, before being put in the same position when her hips circled back against his, the unplanned move took him by surprise and she heard his intake of breath. When she passed under his arm, he pulled her back to him harder, making her gasp for breath, she reached around the back of his neck and pulled his face closer to hers, their breath mingling in the sudden heat of the room. He spun her outwards and watched as her slender back arched from the loss of contact.

At the end of the dance, she was lowered almost to the floor, his arm still firmly wrapped around her body.

They parted and they both instantly regretted not closing the small gap and pressing their lips together. But that just wasn't tango.

Instead, after the music stopped, she spun around and pressed her lips to his. He was shocked, but still responded enthusiastically.

Before she knew it, she was pushed against the wall with her hands tangled in his dark hair. Her leg was wrapped around his waist once again, only this time they weren't dancing the tango. She held him to her body with an iron grip and his lips were firm and forceful against hers he wasn't weak like Anthony, he was more than willing to take the lead.

This was an entirely different dance.


End file.
